


Ouch! I think I missed you

by Fluffy134567890



Series: Ouch! I think I fell for you [2]
Category: One Direction
Genre: 1d, Cute, Drabble, Established Relationship, F/M, Louis Tomlinson - Freeform, Original Female Characte, cecily - Freeform, cussy words, little diddy, mature - Freeform, one direction - Freeform, ouch! I think I fell for you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-12
Updated: 2014-10-12
Packaged: 2018-02-20 21:45:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2444291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffy134567890/pseuds/Fluffy134567890
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's a little diddy about Louis and Cecily after the trip, not set in any time frame.<br/>It's taking me a while to make Ouch! I think I fell for you, too, so I impulsively decided to make this drabble about a day of Cecily hanging out with Louis.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ouch! I think I missed you

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for coming back! It's a little diddy about their daily lives, and I mean, I guess I might do these sometimes while I'm writing my other fiction, since I do love this story so much.

I stared at the TV in front of me and wondered what it’d be like to be an actor.

Probably like shit, what with having to memorize the lines and then be able to act and all that- when my cell phone rang.

I made a distorted pterodactyl sound, (Due to the fact that my cell resided in the kitchen at the moment, forgotten in my haste to inhale the Cap’n crunch I had in my cabinet) and shoved off the couch, grabbing my (now) emptied bowl as I struggled into the kitchen.

I slipped a little once the terrain of the safe carpet morphed into tile, and dumped my bowl into the sink, feverishly searching the countertops for my phone.

Which was incessantly ringing.

The noise sounded like it was coming from….

I yanked open the door to my refrigerator, and there it was, the screen lighting up with a picture of my best friend, throwing up a peace sign and a smile. I grabbed the phone and answered it, leaning against the nearest countertop.

“He _llo_ , sexy mama, what goes on?” Jenny asked.

I sighed and picked at my shirt.

“My elastic paint can of a boyfriend has decided to spend the entirety of the day with me, starting at… 8am or something. I hate him.”

Louis had demanded my attention for the day, spouting something along the lines of “Cece, I actually haven’t seen you in two weeks, you know. I'm not a hit it and quit it kind of guy.”

I then reminded him of how he was with girls before he started dating me and he made an offended noise and then proceeded to hang up.

“Well, shit, _I_ was going to hang out with you today.” Jenny complained through the phone, and I heard a loud tapping noise in the background, and an equally as loud “I’m on the _phone_ could you _be_ any more rude right now?”

I stood up straight and gaped at the phone, wishing she could actually see my disapproval.

“Are you talking to me at _work_?” I asked in a hushed whisper, amazed at her.

“You know, you don’t actually have to whisper- _**Ma’am**_ I will _get_ to you, _damn_.”

“Hang up the phone, right now.” I demanded, knowing in my heart, truly, _truly_ knowing that she wasn’t actually going to listen to me.

“I don’t know why you insist on thinking so idealistically.” She answered, and I sighed and studied the clock on the oven.

The bright, neon green letters told me that it was 7:30, and that this meant that I had a whole nother thirty minutes of no Louis.

I contracted a little sadness from this, because I had, in fact, missed him and all his fart-faced glory.

He had been on a business trip or something equally as frequent.

He sent me a letter via snail mail,though, last week.

It was an envelope addressed to me in messy handwriting, and I made the mistake of getting excited to see the content.

The envelope was empty.

Like, nothing was in it, at all, and when I confronted Louis about this, he laughed.

A lot.

I _knew_ he had his arms wrapped around his torso, rolling across the bed in a silent fit of laughter.

My finger had accidentally slipped a little and pressed the “End call” button during that particular conversation.

* * *

By 8:00, I was standing by the door, actively wishing I wasn't so whipped on the stereotypical white-mom haircut that is Louis Tomlinson, and wondering- every now and then- whether or not he’d missed me as much as I had missed him.

I decided to-as an independent black woman who didn’t need a man- sit down and enjoy the bag of chips leaning precariously against the leg of my couch, since I didn’t think standing up and waiting by the door for some boy seemed healthy.

As I took one step towards that beautiful bag of carbohydrates, though, there was a knock on my door, vaguely in the beat of the Fresh Prince’s theme song, and then a ring of my doorbell.

An incessant ring.

Like, he hit that  _fucking_ doorbell so many  _fucking_ times.

I grabbed the handle of the door and threw it open, a smile hitting my face as soon as I saw him, just standing -Okay, he was shifting from foot to foot- there, looking delectable and cute, and I knew that the first thing out of his mouth was going to annoy me to pieces.

“I see that you’re excited, but- I hate to break it to you, love- you’re not as excited as this **_dick_**.” He practically yelled, shoving past me and into the small apartment.

I fucking  _knew_ it I  _called_ that shit.

He turned around and threw his hands up into the air with an exasperated noise the _second_  I closed the door.

“C' _mon_ , what’s taking you so _long_ , love?”

“Louis, you've been here for a total of _three_ minutes and-”

“Yeah, babe, three minutes too long. We've stuff to do.”

“Like what, Louis? It’s 8:03 in the morning.” I pointed out.

He looked a little bewildered -as if he hadn’t taken into account the time of day-and shrugged, dropping onto my couch and grabbing the bag of chips, his voice matter-of-fact.

“Well, then, I guess we’re just gonna watch some horror films, yeah?” He concluded, patting the space beside him, inviting me over.

Onto _my_ couch.

In _my_ home.

I just rolled my eyes and sat down next to him, reaching over his _really_ nice body to grab the remote.

I didn't think about licking any part of him, at  _all_.

No,  _fuck_ that, he's my boyfriend I can think about licking him if I wanted to.

“If you fucking _eat_ the rest of my chips, I swear, your bacon-bit pancake ass-”

“No need to throw around false accusations, now.” Louis interrupted, and I glared at him, letting him know that I definitely noticed that he hadn't answered my demand.

“I won’t eat your crisps, damn.”Louis complained, and I sat back, flipping through channels.

“No wait, go back- Cecily, go _back_ … I want to watch four weddings.”

* * *

“Someone ate all of your crisps, son.”

Louis said a few hours later, standing up from the couch and holding up the empty chip bag, giving me a supportive smile-as if he understood the pain I was going through, right now.

My heart seized a little in my chest once I realised that I didn't have any more chips, but I smiled through the pain.

By grabbing the bag of forgotten dreams and dumping the rest of the crumbs into his hair, fitting as much of the open bag as I could over his fun-size head, and giving him a nice sized glare.

“What, why are you punishin’ me, love? I’m just the messenger.” He said, putting his hands up in surrender.

He removed the bag from his hair and balled it up, aiming for the trash can in my kitchen as he threw it.

He shoved his fingers through his hair and then took them out, staring at them and then me, mouth agape.

“Your problem?” I questioned, interested in what he had to say next.

“There’s crisp leakage in my hair.”

I gave him an apathetic shrug and a small smile.

“No need to punish me, Lou, i’m just the messenger.”

* * *

We stood in an ice-cream parlor, trying to figure out what flavors to get, Louis pointing to almost every kind and exclaiming some feature of that flavor that made him want to consume it.

“Oh my god, look at the caramel one, I bet it tastes like-”

“Like caramel? It’d be an unwelcome surprise if it _did_  taste like caramel.”

Louis stuck his tongue out at me and walked up the counter, pointing to the ice cream and smiling.

“Can I try this?”

The unbeknownst victim of a worker nodded graciously and handed Louis a plastic spoon of ice cream, just enough for a taste.

“And this one?”

The worker nodded again.

And again.

And again.

Until eventually, Louis had been through all of the ice cream flavors twice, swearing it was because of indecision.

“Sir, you’ll have to buy ice cream now, I think you've had a sufficient-”

“Do not tell me what is a ‘sufficient’ amount of ice cream, because what if,-in fact- I haven't decided yet? Now i’m all undecided, and you have a confused customer on your hands, and if I went to Angie’s list and told them that I was thoroughly confused, no one would set foot into this blasted establishment.”

The man behind the counter just stared at Louis blankly, blinking every now and then.

“Okay, give me…. four scoops of all of it.”  Louis continued, swiveling around to gesture at the entire set up in one sweep of an arm, giving an obnoxious smile.

Imagine how the people behind us felt.

I gave a hefty sigh, and backed up, acting as if I had been in line behind him the entire time.

“Babe, do you want anything?”

He was looking at me expectantly, those wide blue eyes staring me down, fucking me up.

I cleared my throat.

“Who?”

“Um… you?”

“I’m sorry, wrong number.” And I took up a pretty convincing game of ignoring him as he acquired _more_ than four cups of ice cream, juggling them in his arms as he tried to get his debit card out, sticking his tongue between his teeth in concentration, leaning against the counter a little bit for leverage.

I would’ve helped him if the view of his ass in those jeans wasn’t so nice.

* * *

Louis slammed a container into my hand as soon as we walked inside of the mall, making a face at the other cup of ice cream he had in his other palm.

“Why so sour?” I asked, and then I bent over a little, riddled with a disgusting amount of laughter, making people walk past with slight frowns on their faces.

Some lady made a sharp intake of breath as she walked past me.

“ _What_ , mate?” Louis asked, confused as to what had tickled me.

“You know- y- _sour?_  Like… like, like sour cream, like-”

He cut me off with a glare that would knock the president from office.

A glare that would freeze the glaciers back.

A glare that would create world peace- as he shook his head at me.

“ _Fucking_ disgrace.” He whispered, as if I had betrayed him something awful.

I covered my mouth and shook my head. “You’re just a hater.”

He shrugged.

I held up the cup of ice cream and plastic spoon he had shoved into my hand and raised my eyebrows in a silent question.

He sighed as if I had asked him to loan me a few million dollars and rolled his eyes.

“The only flavor I wanted was mint chocolate.”

But he _fucking_ -

* * *

“ ** _Louis_**!” I complained a few hours later as the rest of the ice cream cup spilled completely on my shirt, just… dripping down.

My shirt was white.

And it was smothered in a medley of melted ice cream.

I watched the liquid despair run down my shirt, (And not down my throat, regretfully) wrapped in my own cloak of bitter sadness.

“Why are you blaming _me_? You’re the one who spilled it all.”

“You ordered _so_ much ice cream, you fucking bowl of un-condensed milk.” I was screaming at him.

In the middle of a sidewalk, people streaming around us like a river.

“You’ve _really_ got to learn to control your anger, love.”

He then grabbed my arm and took me into the nearest building, blindly dragging me to a shady ass bathroom and locking the door.

“This would be _extremely_ terrifying if you weren't my boyfriend-”

“You’re just, you’re just saying _words_ , words are flying out of your mouth and all I hear is ‘blah blah blah Louis i’m blaming Louis, like it’s Louis’ fault blah blah blergh’.” He complained as he turned the faucet on.

“But this _is_ your fault.”

“No need to be _petty,_ now.”

The bathroom was small and well-lit, a single bathroom, with a sink and and a shady-looking toilet, and a soap dispenser- the regular kind of public restroom.

Louis sighed and grabbed an obnoxious amount of paper towels from the towel dispenser and shoved them under the slightly green tinged water spurting from the sink, and then started viciously patting at my shirt to get the ice cream out.

“Louis.”

“What?”

“You’re _literally_ attacking me with those-”

“Cece-”

“You are inside of me right now.”

“But you-”

“I can _feel_ your hand inside of my body right now.” I groaned and stopped him from grabbing three hundred more paper towels, what with the fact that the huge stains hadn’t even tried to disappear. “Just leave it.”

“But it did-”

“You know, I like brown shirts anyway.” I said, grabbing his wrist and lowered his hand, smiling at him.

This was due to an embarrassing amount fond.

“Okay, right, but-”

“My shirt has character now.”

Louis just sighed, standing there with a mess of wet paper towels in his hand.

This was extremely relatable.

* * *

Louis opened my apartment door, my keys jingling in his hand as he turned the lock, walking through the doorway, humming a tune under his breath.

I watched him, desperately trying to hold up the millions of bags that littered my arms, feeling a considerable amount of contempt since he was carrying nothing but the last remnants of mint chocolate chip ice cream, now a complete liquid.

Like him.

But he looked _really_ good in the black shirt and matching skinny jeans ( I swear they’re fucking leggings, the lil punk)

So, I became distracted by the way he... and tripped a little as I tried to walk through the doorway, my foot having gotten respectively snagged on a rogue piece of air.

Okay, I tripped a lot.

And myself and the various bags tumbled violently to the floor, and I stayed there, sprawled out and used to it.

The air was my enemy.

And the ground was my best friend.

Louis sighed and stepped over me to close the door to the apartment, and I shrugged out of the cage of bags, flipping onto my back and staring at the ceiling, so used to the feel of a floor beneath my body.

Louis flopped down beside me, laying his head on my stomach and sighed.

“You can’t stand for more than three seconds.”

“Well, at least I don’t look like a mint chip chocolate.”

I heard Louis whisper under his breath “But what does that mean?” and then he raised his voice, addressing me. “Was that supposed to be an insult?”

He sat up and laid beside me so that our heads were next to each other.

He caught my chin with his fingers and gave me a soft smile.

“I missed you, you clumsy fuck ass.”

“I fucking missed you too, you celing-fan-stuck-on-high-.”

He smiled softly and kissed me, making me forget my own name, let alone my insult.

**_Fucking asshole._ **

 

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**Author's Note:**

> P.S it says that this is part ! of the Ouch! I think I fell for you series, but it's really second, so yeah.


End file.
